


To catch a director

by Mallorn



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Don't Try This At Home, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-09-28 03:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mallorn/pseuds/Mallorn
Summary: The unattainable Director Krennic has long been in your dreams and, apparently, all that is needed to catch his attention is a few drinks and fancy dress.





	1. Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little Krennic fantasy. Enjoy!  
> Many thanks to teawithshakespeare for the splendid beta job :-)

It was just a brush of a body against yours as he passed, perhaps purely incidental, and yet it felt like electricity coursing through you. The area on your thigh that Director Krennic’s hand had touched burned long after he passed you with a quick glance over his shoulder that you didn’t know how to interpret. Was there a challenge in those eyes, a hint of interest? Trying to ignore the tingling between your thighs, you followed his back with your gaze. The white tunic and the cape stood out even here, where there were as many patrons in uniform as in various forms of civilian wear. How you longed to touch the greying strands that curled just over the collar!

As the evening went on, you spoke with other people and had a few drinks, enjoying yourself and managing well enough. As long as you didn’t think too much or look at him. Even a slight glance his way ruined your plan to let the handsome director’s touch become nothing but a pleasant memory to bring home.

You were about to leave when he was suddenly right in your field of vision, swaying slightly on a bar stool. You stopped, unable to take your eyes off of him. Even inebriated, there was an aura of power and restless energy about him that enticed you. Combined with his looks, it was a heady drug, and you forgot every thought of leaving. No, this was your chance. So many nights you had imagined his large hands on your body, his lips against yours, his glittering gaze aimed at you only. And now, the unattainable seemed within your grasp. You could never approach him in a professional situation, nor did you have the courage to talk to him when you were sober, but here, now? Anything could happen.

The tender droid served him another drink, apparently with the wrong attitude, as the director snatched the low glass with enough force and speed to slosh some of its contents onto the counter. Krennic was punished instantly, the sudden motion causing him to lose his balance and for a moment, he was near crashing onto the floor. Surprisingly quick reflexes saved his dignity – the droid’s steady grip on his upper arm kept him from falling – but he looked irritated, not grateful, as he swept the metallic digits away with as much care as one would brush off an insect. He drained the glass in one gulp, his Adam’s apple lifting and falling vigorously. The withering stare he gave the rest of the room as he put the glass down with a clunk filled you with fear but was strangely alluring.

“What’s wrong with you?” he snarled at the droid. “Give me another one!”

The droid filled the order with perfect decorum. Krennic took the glass, this time with the clumsy, over-attentive care of someone who must concentrate very hard to complete a normally simple task. He navigated around the stool and found a seat with a group of junior officers. Steadily seated, and with a drink in his hand, the director was an entertaining companion, which proven over and over by their laughs.

You reluctantly turned your head away from him and walked up to the bar counter, the clatter of your sensible heels drowned out by the music and talking around you, but your new dress still made a statement with its bold bright red. The design was simple and modest but for a horizontal ellipse cut-out that showed a bit of skin at the top of your breasts. It made you feel beautiful and daring.

“You look fetching tonight,” the droid remarked for the third or fifth time as it handed you a glass. You smiled. Wasn’t it pathetic that a compliment from a machine made you happy? Perhaps you ought just to down your drink and go back to dreaming.

In your day job you were seldom noticed. Quiet, dutiful, calm and sensible, you were not the kind to draw attention to yourself. This suited you well enough as you’d rather observe. Little evaded your attentive gaze and the director’s attractiveness you had noticed from the start. To no avail, of course, there was no reason he should take notice of you. And yet, the attraction had grown into obsession, your dark secret. This was your chance to have him, and you had to take it. It would be chaotic at best, a one-night affair that you would be certain to regret, and yet it was a chance to be free of the temptation. You would sample and see that he was not for you.

Another hearty laugh was heard from behind. You took another sip, then turned slowly towards the source of it. You took a deep breath and started to walk, rehearsing in your head what to say.

His entourage noticed you before he did, turning their heads toward you. Possibly just to see who dared to intrude into their circle, but still. Krennic finally saw, too, freezing for a second before he closed his mouth and looked pensive.

“Come here,” he said, his gaze gliding cursorily over your face before dipping to the cutaway in your top. “How come I haven’t seen you before? You’re not in my department, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” you told him.

 “Have a seat, then,” he said with a meaningful glance around that made the others laugh, and you blush. He nudged the lieutenant at his side, and the young man stood.

With anybody else, the situation would have made you uneasy, but now it played right into your hands. Krennic patted the now free seat next to him, and you sat down.

“Thank you.”

“This is nice,” he remarked, waving at your top. “I’ll have you know I’m known for my fashion sense.” He was much too loud, and absolutely adorable. And there was something in his gaze that made you feel like a star. It went straight to your core, and the tingling sensation started again. You took another sip for courage and had to look away when you noticed how his gaze followed your tongue.

“Really?” you told him with feigned, but wide-eyed, astonishment. “Then maybe you could help me assess the quality of the material?” You noticed, smiling, that you had nothing to fear. He took the bait instantly, his fingers trembling with excitement as they approached the fabric encasing your breasts.

He changed his mind the last minute, and rather than going for a grab, he settled for a slow approach, starting at your collarbone. Just one fingertip, gliding over the material and leaving a trail of flames in its wake. You held your breath, staring at the large hand that caressed you so gently.

“Hmm,” he said. “Hmm. This isn’t easy.” He appeared to concentrate hard and he followed his own finger with wonder.

“You may take, ah, as long as you need.” You bit your lip, determined not to show just yet how much his attentions affected you.  

You soon changed your mind. Rising to a half-stand, you put your glass at a nearby table and, feigning unsteadiness, sank down on his thighs when you tried to sit again.

He caught you, placing you steadily sideways on his lap. He took to caressing you again, with a little less care, and his finger slipped into the cut-out.

“This is an interesting design,” he remarked as he followed his edge with a fingertip, barely brushing your skin.

“Yes,” you breathed. “The material is very soft, don’t you think?

This time he palmed your breasts shamelessly, running his hands all over your front and dangerously close to the junction of your thighs.

“And what about here?” His fingertips fluttered over your clit with expertise while his other hand groped your thigh.

“Mm, yes.” You squirmed and clutched his shoulder, leaning your head into his neck to hide your blush.

 “I would have done this ages ago,” he said, “had I known I had such a morsel under my nose.”

You whimpered.

 “Straddle me,” he whispered into your ear. “Yes, just like that.”

He was hard under you and as soon he moved both hands to your backside, you began to grind down against him. You arched into his hands, steadying yourself against his shoulders. You felt how he slipped a hand underneath your dress; it wedged towards its aim with sureness, moving the crotch of your panties to the side just enough to make space for his fingers. Finding you soaking wet, he smiled. His gazed locked with yours, mischief giving way to something darker, more intense as he thrust his fingers inside repeatedly. His face contorted with effort.

“Hold still,” he said, removing his hand, “and I’ll give you precisely what you came looking for.”

He opened his fly, fumbling enough to make his face red with annoyance. You slipped off his lap and stood to drop your underwear, discreetly aided by the closest onlooker, a handsome young lieutenant with reverent hands and a face the colour of your dress.

As the buzz of voices died down around you and gave way to whispers, the droid came to investigate.

“Madame, sir, you’ll have to conclude your meeting elsewhere.”

“Everyone gets out,” Krennic barked. “The bar’s closed!”

“Sir, this is most unusual. You cannot do this!” The droid wringed its hands in a perfect imitation of anxiety.

The humans got the message fast enough and filed out of the room, some with a glance over the shoulder. You gave an apologetic smile to the man whose seat you had taken and he shrugged. You got the distinct impression that it wasn’t the first time something like this happened. You ought to be scandalized and appalled, and yet you found that you didn’t care. This night was yours.

When all was quiet, you looked at Director Krennic again. His expression now was thoughtful, almost mild. He lifted a hand from your thigh and touched your lips, watching you with intent. “You do want this, don’t you?”

You stared into his eyes and let out a whimper at what you saw there. “Please,” you whispered.

He grazed your lip with a tip of his finger, in a similar manner as he had with the dress earlier. “So soft,” he breathed.

You sucked it in between your lips and bit down, seeing his eyes widen, and then he grinned.

“Get down for me,” he said with a light slap to your bottom, and another one when you didn’t let go of his finger fast enough.

You sank to your knees between his parted legs. “I want _you_ ,” you told him. “Now.”

“Come have me.” He peeled down his black briefs and revealed a raging hard-on, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Good?”

“Mm. Yes.” You traced the line of hairs from his navel down over his belly, careful to avoid the straining member. Again, down the other side. He twitched as your fingertip passed over his groin. It was such a cute thing and you just had to…

“I’m ticklish, yes,” he groaned. “Now get on with it.”

The slight pout looked adorable, but his gaze was not to play with. Your breath hitched as he stared into your eyes and once again heat pooled in your core. With your hands on his thighs for purchase, you lowered your head slowly.

The sound he made as your tongue connected with his shaft was only a low groan, but it filled you with such a sense of power. You licked from base to head, then took him into your mouth. Your hand made up for what you couldn’t take in and for a while you were in deep concentration, fondling his balls and lavishing his cock with all your attention, until he made a choked sound and you looked up, still with the head between your lips.

“Beautiful,” he said. “So beautiful.” He put his left hand on your hair and let it slide down to cup your cheek. You leaned into his hand. The other he buried in your hair and for a while he held you like that, securely, watching as you serviced him. You tried to be patient and ignore your aching core although every moan made you want to be touched.

“I need,” you finally whined.

He chuckled hoarsely. “Up.” Tugging at your hair, he had you climb on top of him.

You felt deliciously dirty, wet and wanting against his pristine uniform. He placed his hands on your hips, positioning you while you guided his cock towards your folds. The thick, blunt head bumped against your clit and you could have come from just that, but then he tilted his hips and pushed inside. He thrust vigorously a couple of times, then held you still, pressed flush against him.

“Good, ah?”

“Sublime.” It was beyond good. The fullness of him, the warmth of his palms, his eyes gazing into yours with desire, all of it so much better than in your imagination. You reached toward his face, suddenly needing to touch his hair, his cheek, this handsome man behind the tunic and the rank badge.

He chose that moment to buck his hips, then place the pad of his thumb on your clit and steady you with his other hand as you rode him. He took hold of your hips again and lifted his face to catch a nipple in his mouth, through the material.

“Off with it.” You tugged at the hem and together you lifted the dress over your head. He cupped your breasts and held them, a silly smile on his face. A second attempt to put his mouth close to them ended in him falling back heavily against the cushion. You leaned forward again, hugging him close.

He gave few long, languid strokes, his face contorting into an open-mouthed, slack-jawed expression of bliss and then, almost as an afterthought, began to strum your clit vigorously, until you followed with an exhausted sigh. You fell over him with a beating heart, listening to his contented breath until you began to wonder why he was so silent. You moved off of him and he stirred, opening his eyes briefly.

“Next time, I’ll bend you over my desk,” he mumbled. “I promise.”

He closed his eyes again and was asleep within seconds.

Would he even remember you in the morning? You smiled to yourself as you dressed and then left the snoring director. It didn’t matter if he didn’t recognise you. The dress would be enough to catch him, any time you wanted.


	2. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't seem to forget Director Krennic, and it turns out the impression you made on him is more long-lasting than you thought!

You stared at the man on the podium. Director Krennic was giving a speech, and, as always it was a performance. His signature cape flared behind him as he strode across the floor, now and then stopping at one edge or the other to gesture at his audience. Your gaze was glued to his face as you followed his every movement in awe. He made each person feel special, and when he turned his attention towards the area where you stood, you had to bite your lip not to squeal.

He didn’t recognise you. Without the dress that had caught his eye, there wasn’t a chance Director Krennic would know it was you he’d met in the bar. The realization stung a little, but the anonymity made you bold.

Soon you started to take detours into his department whenever possible. Most of the time, Krennic wasn’t anywhere you could see him, but just knowing you might run into him made your heart flutter. On the occasions you met, he ignored you just like he would any inconsequential member of the crew. And yet you craved being near him. It became an obsession, every encounter a reason to return to the solitude of your cabin as fast as possible, to touch yourself while you thought about his eyes, mouth, hands. The dress was all that connected you to him. You dared not use it.

One day as you were loitering outside his office, trying to appear like you were doing something useful, his assistant opened the door, looking around with a rather desperate expression on his face.

“You,” he said, “I’ve seen you here often enough. Could you do me a favour and give this to Director Krennic? I must finish these notes before delta.”

“Of course. How do I –”

“Conference room C57, deck 908, section G.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks!” He shut the door in your face, only to open it within seconds. “And don’t tarry! He hates that!”

He was another man who didn’t recognize you from the bar, which was definitely for the best. He had been one of the lieutenants in Krennic’s company and had witnessed some things a little too closely for comfort.

Room C57 didn’t take too long to find and, at a half-run, the time wasted was minimal. You rapped on the door. Hearing no response, you began to think the room was deserted – perhaps you had gone to the wrong one after all – so the sound of the door suddenly opening startled you.

“My files? Give that to me.”

You handed him the data card in silence, not quite knowing what to say. It didn’t make things better that he was wearing gloves. Your hand involuntarily brushed against his when you placed the card in his open palm.

“Good,” he grunted, closed his fist around the card and looked at you, pursing his lips. He stared at your face for a couple of seconds and then snapped his fingers. “I know you”, he said and shut the door behind him with a wolfish grin. “You’re my little fucktoy from the bar.”

“Sir? You remember me?”

“Ha! Never too wasted to recall good nookie.” He narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t started working in my department, have you?”

“Eh, no, I was just doing a favour for Lt… lt… your assistant, sir.”

“Good.” He pocketed the datacard and took a step closer, herding you against the wall. “Because I recall something else from that night.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Do you?” He put a finger under your chin, raising it. “Do you remember what I promised to do to you next time?”

Your heart was beating like a heavy hammer, the ear-deafening sound making it hard to think. Not that you needed to – that promise had played inside your head every night since.

“To bend me over your desk… sir.”

“Attentive and respectful. I like that.” He moved closer still, until your back was pressed against the wall and he was barely an inch from you. “In fact, I’d do it right now.” Something hard brushed against your thigh. “You feel that? Hm?”

You nodded.

“That is how much I’d like to do it rather than going back to that meeting.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you told him, pressing back and standing on your toes to feel him better.

“Good slut. Alas, it’ll have to wait.” He stepped away. “Report to my office at 22.00.”

“Why so late?” you whined. The almost-promise of here and now already had you throbbing inside.

“So there won’t be so many around to hear you moan under me. Or perhaps that is something else you wouldn’t mind? If my assistant and a couple of his peers would hear you and come investigate? They are good boys, eager to learn. They’d feel you up with their clumsy hands, put them all over you, trembling with excitement.”

Just as you were on the verge of getting into it, the scenario sounding so tempting from how he described it, he put his face next to yours.

“Forget it,” he hissed. “You’re mine.”

Steps were approaching.

“Sir, someone is coming.”

“It’s not you,” he said as he shook his head in a semblance of pity. “Not unless I can get you off with my words alone.” He lifted his eyebrows, staring at you with intent. “No? Well in that case, we’ll have to wait. Officers of the higher echelons must at all times consider their demeanour and the image they create in the eye of the public. Such drivel! Well, what are you waiting for? Move along.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” you heard him say to the others in the room as he closed the door behind him. “Let’s resume the meeting, I have some pressing matters to attend to afterwards.”

* * *

 

The afternoon was a pain to suffer through. The brief dialogue outside the conference room left you so aroused you had to wait and catch your breath before you could even think of leaving. Pressing your thighs together wasn’t nearly enough, and you had pushed your fingers hard against your clit to make the arousal go away. Reciting the aurebesh backwards helped keep your attention away from him, at least until you stopped by his office.

 “You found him?” asked the lieutenant at the desk, casting but a cursory glance at you.

“Of course. I’ve delivered the data card to Director Krennic.” Saying his name brought it all back again; the cruel and sensual curve of his lips, the dark promise in his eyes, the smell of leather as he touched your chin…

“Good. Thanks.”

That was his door. Beyond it would be his office, and his desk, and tonight you would enter that room and he would be there and…

“Was there anything else?”

The lieutenant’s voice startled you. Pull yourself together, woman! “Eh, no. I should be going then.”

“Indeed.” The young man stared at you knowingly – was it possible that he recognized you from the bar? That thought led back to where it shouldn’t. You blushed again.

* * *

 

The time had come, finally. You checked your appearance a last time – the little red dress again, for luck, even if a sober man would hardly be as openly fascinated with the modest display of skin through the cut-out in the bodice. It had been so sweet how the inebriated director had admired you. Krennic with his senses intact was an entirely different animal. He had the same aura of confidence, the same arrogance and attitude of doing what he pleased, but instead of puppy-eyed wonder, his eyes had flashed with intelligence, impatience, and a hint of danger that added the final heady ingredient to a mix that could only spell desire.

The department was as deserted as he had indicated, you noticed with relief. As thrilling as the idea of an audience sounded when he presented it, it had little appeal when you thought about it on your own. You slunk by the assistant’s empty desk blushing just from the sight of it.

What was the proper protocol for this? Should you knock? Go straight in because you had an appointment? You settled for the middle way, rapping your knuckles against the door at the same time as pressing the panel beside it.

Krennic appeared engrossed in work. He was reading from a datapad and scribbling furiously on a sheet of flimsi that covered a large part of the desk.

“Enter,” he barked without looking up.

The door slid shut behind you. What did you do now? Even if you were expected, Krennic clearly had other things on his mind. Did he even remember? Powerful men had a lot on their minds, and a number of situations had probably come up since then, and now –

“Come,” he said, still not looking at you. “What do you think about this?” He gestured towards the sheet in front of him.

It was some sort of building, or the interior of one; it wasn’t so easy to see from where you stood. Encouraged by his gesture, you walked around the desk and stood beside him.

“Well?” He finally turned towards you, his face beaming with pride.

“It looks very nice,” you said tentatively.

“Nice? This angle here is a stroke of genius,” he declared, tapping his finger on a part of the design.

It looked like the rest, blue and red lines printed in an orderly fashion, with numbers and letters around some of them. What were you to say?

“I’ll have to trust you on that. I have to admit my knowledge of architecture is very limited. Sir.” You laughed uneasily. This wasn’t going well at all.

“You’re not looking closely enough, is all.”

You edged closer, leaning to better look at the line he was pointing at.

His arm came around your backside, skirting your thighs in the process, just below the hem of the dress. The touch was feather-light, but very sure. It hadn’t happened accidentally.

You fought an impulse to push back into his hand. Even if you had come here under totally different pretences than looking at his work, politeness dictated you at least try to take an interest. Krennic was a renowned architect before he became Director and it was rather touching that he stayed late to pursue this interest. Still, his hand resting on your backside bore much promise.

“Show me again,” you asked, gaze glued to his finger.

“Here,” he said, tapping the sheet again, while his other hand made a circle of your backside, only to stop right at the junction of your thighs.

You gasped and shifted your weight, just a little.

“I like your thinking,” he said, tracing a finger down your cleft, and then continuing down to creep underneath the skirt.

“I – I’m not sure I see what you mean.” You glanced at his face.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” He smiled, just for a millisecond, until his hand pressed between your parted legs and his lips parted slightly, much the same as yours as he rubbed you on top of your panties.

“Show me,” you croaked, lips dry. Your underwear had been soaked already before he touched you, and he showed no sign of stopping. Relentlessly he let his fingertips press and glide over the material, back and forth, just never high enough to touch where you most desired it. The edge of the desk was the right height, but out of reach, unless if you put your own hand there.

“I will, you can be sure of that.” His voice was husky now, his breath coming in somewhat strained puffs. The hand between your thighs stilled, then a fingertip quested beneath the material, pushing it to the side. Baring your slippery folds to his touch. He licked his lips. “Wider.”

You obeyed immediately. Not only was giving him more access precisely in line with what you wanted, but his voice was suddenly commanding; there was an edge to it that made it clear he would accept nothing but compliance.

“Good. Now, don’t move.”

You remained as still as you could under the inquisitive finger’s continued assault. Why did he hesitate? You were soaking already!

He stood from the chair and took up position behind you. The loss of contact made you moan with disappointment. Momentarily his hand was in your hair, keeping a steady grip on it by your neck. In the process, he’d come close to you and his hardness pressed against you. He bent over you, lips close to your ear, and brought his other hand in front of your face. His fingertips were glistening.

“So,” he said, “this is what I do to you.” He was clearly pleased and eager to brag.

“Yes. Please.”

“Clean it.”

You lapped at his fingers, sucking them into your mouth as lewdly as you were able. You were quite ready for him to lose control and just fuck you already.

“Slut,” he drawled, not without appreciation. He let go of your hair and using both hands flipped the skirt up over your backside. He let his hands glide over your buttocks, grabbing and caressing them, and then down the backside of your thighs.

You quivered at the light touch, aching for more.

His fingers plunging into you suddenly took you by surprise. He was fast, almost frantic, then stopped just as abruptly.

“Take them off.”

Not trusting your voice, you gingerly pulled down your panties and stepped out of them.

“Let me look at you,” he said as he opened his trousers. He spread you with his fingers. “So fucking wet.”

He teased your opening with the thick head of his cock, using his hand to steer it along your folds, gathering and spreading your wetness.

You swallowed. “Your drawing. Shouldn’t we move it?”

“Nah, you will just have to be careful.”

You giggled uneasily.

“I mean it. Don’t ruin it.” There was that delicious, commanding voice again.

“No, sir. I won’t.”

He chose that precise moment to fill you to the hilt.

You sucked in your breath, the sound drowned out by his drawn-out groan.

“Fuck!” He pulled out and slammed into you again. Another loud groan, and he set a fast and steady pace, holding on to your hips at first, then placing his hands on the desk beside yours. His large frame all but covered you, his forearms pressing at your sides made you feel safe and cherished.

“Please, more,” you moaned when he began to slow down.

“You bet,” he groaned between his teeth. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

At this you smiled, but were careful not to let him see. Director Krennic really took your breath away, there was something so dirty and animalistic about his grunts and the way he slammed into you. His bollocks slapped against your folds with each violent thrust, building you steadily towards completion. Almost there now, almost.

His hand edged between you and the desk, just where your neglected clit could press against the base of his thumb. You ground against him, thrashing and moaning as the pressure built within you and you quivered with relief. Krennic’s pace became more erratic, his grunts punctuating each thrust until everything became a blur and the world whitened out around you. Somewhere distantly you could hear him curse, and eventually you noticed that he had stilled.

You suddenly remembered. The drawing! Your hands were sweaty because they were placed on top of flimsi, and not just any old piece of it, but something that was important to the director. There were creases all over the nearest part of it, and a horrendous damp spot where your chin had been.

“I – I’m so sorry,” you whispered, heart beating hard. He would toss you out now and never want to see you again, there was no way he would forgive you, ever.

He scrutinized the sheet, but rather than anger, it was mirth playing in his eyes.

“Don’t be. It’s been a long time since I properly baptized a new work.”


End file.
